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12-Monkeys.txt
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Twelve Monkeys
TWELVE MONKEYS
An original screenplay by
David Peoples
&
Janet Peoples
Inspired by
LA JETEE, a Chris Marker Film
Production Draft
June 27, 1994
FADE IN:
INT. CONCOURSE/AIRPORT TERMINAL - BAY
CLOSE ON A FACE. A nine year old boy, YOUNG COLE, his eyes wide
with wonder. watching something intently. We HEAR the sounds of
the P.A. SYSTEM droning Flight Information mingled with the
sounds of urgent SHOUTS, running FEET, EXCLAMATIONS.
YOUNG COLE'S POV: twenty yards away, a BLONDE MAN is sprawled on
the floor, blood oozing from his gaudy Hawaiian shirt.
A BRUNETTE in a tight dress, her face obscured from YOUNG COLE'S
view, rushes to the injured man, kneels beside him, ministering
to his wound.
ANGLE ON YOUNG COLE, flanked by his PARENTS, their faces out of
view, as they steer him away.
FATHER'S VOICE (o.s.)
Come on, Son --this is no place for us.
YOUNG COLE resists momentarily, mesmerized by the drama.
YOUNG COLE'S POV: intermittently visible through a confusion of
FIGURES rushing through the foreground, the BLONDE MAN reaching
up and touching the cheek of the kneeling BRUNETTE in a gesture
of enormous tenderness, a gesture of farewell, while the P.A.
SYSTEM continues its monotonous monotone...
P.A. SYSTEM
Flight 784 for San Francisco is now
ready for boarding at inmate number
66578, Greely.
INT. PRISON DORMITORY/FUTURE - ETERNAL NIGHT
PRISON P.A. SYSTEM
--number 5429, Garcia -- number 87645, Cole...
COLE, late thirties, dark hair, comes awake in a bunk cage, one
of many stacked four high along both sides of a long dim
corridor. He blinks in the near dark, shaken, disoriented.
Then, as he "recovers" from his very vivid dream, WE GET OUR
FIRST LOOK AT HIS ENVIRONMENT...A WINDOWLESS UNDERGROUND WORLD OF
ETERNAL NIGHT SOMETIME IN THE FUTURE...AN ALMOST COLORLESS
"REALITY" OF BLURRED EDGES AND ECHOEY SOUNDS, MUCH MORE
"DREAMLIKE" THAN HIS DREAM.
Flashlights glare. In the half-light, COLE sees spooky figures,
GUARDS, moving among the locked bunk/cages.
COLE turns and whispers to the occupant of the next cage, JOSE...
COLE
Ssssst! Jose, what's going on?
JOSE's face is almost lost in shadow. What there is of it is
youthful. He's just a scared Puerto Rican kid!
JOSE
"Volunteers" again.
JOSE immediately rolls over and feigns sleep as SCARFACE, a
menacing guard with a jagged scar running down his cheek, looms
close to COLE's cage and unlocks it.
SCARFACE
"Volunteer duty".
The PRISONERS in the other cages watch silently with narrowed eyes.
COLE
I didn't volunteer.
SCARFACE
You causing trouble again?
COLE
(controls his temper)
No trouble.
INT. EQUIPMENT ROOM - ETERNAL NIGHT
COLE's alone, struggling to get into what looks like a space suit
in a room where suits hang like ghosts with blank eyes.
TITLES BEGIN SUPERED OVER THE SCENE
COLE has the torso of the suit on now and is trying to close it.
OFFSCREEN VOICE (o.s.)
All openings must be closed.
COLE looks for the source of the voice, a tiny grate in the wall.
OFFSCREEN VOICE (o.s.)
If the integrity of the suit is compromised
in any way, if the fabric is torn or a zipper
not closed, readmittance will be denied.
INT. SEALED CHAMBER - MINUTES LATER (ETERNAL NIGHT)
COLE, wearing the "space suit" and a helmet with a plastic visor,
steps into a tiny chamber, a kind of air lock. The heavy door
clangs shut behind him. He's alone. COLE'S breath comes quicker
now as he sucks oxygen from the air tanks on his back.
On the opposite wall is another door with a huge wheel lock.
COLE turns the heavy wheel, opens the door, steps through It
INT. ELEVATOR - SECONDS LATER (ETERNAL NIGHT)
COLE'S in an ascending elevator that groans and creaks. He looks
down at a crudely drawn map he holds in his gloved hand.
The map shows a series of tunnels and ladders.
INT. SEWER PIPE - MINUTES LATER (NIGHT)
COLE pans a flashlight, probing the filthy sewer he's wading through
RATS flee the blade of light, scurry across islands of rusting junk.
The flashlight beam settles on a ladder mounted in the wall.
Reaching the rusted ladder, COLE starts to climb awkwardly.
EXT. CITY STREET/FUTURE - MOMENTS LATER (NIGHT)
A SCRAPING NOISE as a heavy man-hole cover is pushed up and moved
aside. COLE'S helmeted head emerges from below.
COLE'S POV THROUGH HIS PLASTIC-VISORED HELMET: a city in
moonlight! A surreal image of abandoned buildings. No people
anywhere. The only sounds are the WIND and COLE'S BREATHING.
EXT. ANOTHER CITY STREET - MINUTES LATER (NIGHT)
COLE'S light reveals abandoned vine-covered automobiles.
Moving to the nearest car, COLE searches in the vines for
something. Finds it. An insect.
COLE takes the bug in his gloved hand. As he clumsily inserts it
into a collection tube, something makes him turn.
There's something across the street in the dark. Something alive.
COLE points his flashlight and reveals...a BEAR! Startled by the
light, the animal blinks, then stands on its rear legs and ROARS.
ANGLE ON COLE, staring wide-eyed.
Then, the BEAR sinks down onto all fours and, trying to avoid the
flashlight, it pads quickly down the street.
INT. SUBTERRANEAN PARKING GARAGE - NIGHT
Using the flashlight to see, COLE reaches down to the cracked
floor and gets another specimen. DOGSHIT!
The only sound is COLE'S labored BREATHING.
Then, a different SOUND. GRRRR! A dog. More GRRRRS. More
dogs. Then, a YIP. Then, VICIOUS GROWLS. It's a DOGFIGHT!
EXT. STREET - NIGHT (FIRST LIGHT)
A giant OWL, perched on an overhead traffic light, raises its wings
and lifts off...rising higher and higher into the brightening sky.
Below, on the street, COLE trudges along, passing deserted
buildings, windows broken, rusted signs dangling.
INT. DEPARTMENT STORE - NIGHT (FIRST LIGHT)
COLE'S light reveals a spider web just inside the store. A large
SPIDER tries to hide from the light.
COLE reaches carefully into the web and plucks the spider and
puts it into one of his specimen tubes.
Then, he shines his light all around the once elegant store. There's
nothing but aisle after aisle of moldering consumer goods.
EXT. DEPARTMENT STORE - DAWN
As COLE comes out of the store, the first rays of the sun hit the
building. COLE stops, squints into the light through his visor.
COLE'S POV: spray-painted on the wall a long time ago is a stenciled
logo of twelve monkeys holding hands in a circle. Over it is
written, "WE DID IT!"
COLE looks up.
COLE'S POV: high up on a building across the street, a LION
patrols a ledge, pauses, looks out majestically over his world.
TTTLES END
INT. FIRST UNDERGROUND DECONTAMINATION CHAMBER - ETERNAL NIGHT
ROARING WATER, powerful torrents gushing from nozzles in the
wall, pummel the still-suited COLE.
INT. SECOND UNDERGROUND DECONTAMINATION CHAMBER - ETERNAL NIGHT
Stark naked and shivering, COLE is being scrubbed with brushes on
long poles (like the ones used to wash cars) wielded by two HULKING
FIGURES in bulky decontamination suits, their personas lost in their
windowed masks. It's a grim scene in a grim cement room with damp,
dripping walls. From an unseen source comes an AMPLIFIED VOICE,
AMPLIFIED VOICE (o.s.)
Raise your arms above your head.
COLE lifts his arms and the FIGURES start scrubbing his armpits.
INT. TINY CHAMBER - SHORTLY (ETERNAL NIGHT)
Still naked, COLE is seated on a stool while a MASKED TECHNICIAN
in a less elaborate, less bulky decontamination outfit draws
blood from COLE'S arm with an old-fashioned hypodermic needle.
COLE glances toward a single, nearly opaque "window" of thick
plastic in the rusty iron wall. VAGUE FIGURES seem to lurk
behind the translucent aperture, studying him.
The TECHNICIAN slips the blood sample through a slot in the wall.
INT. ENGINEERING OFFICE/FUTURE WORLD - ETERNAL NIGHT
Ushered in by two guards, TINY and SCARFACE, COLE looks around.
COLE'S POV: wails hidden by old headlines, articles, maps, charts...
a blackboard covered with elaborate, sophisticated formulae...surfaces
heaped with cracked monitors, gerry-rigged computers held together with
string, lasers lost in tangles of cable, ancient tube amplifiers, a
dilapidated cardboard reconstruction of a city, stacks of moldering
books and tattered computer printouts...and, seated at a long conference
table, staring at COLE, six SCIENTISTS: an ASTROPHYSICIST, ENGINEER,
BOTANIST, MICROBIOLOGIST, ZOOLOGIST, and a GEOLOGIST. They represent
a "modern" science where brilliant new ideas interface with crude,
outdated, patched-together technologies.
TINY
James Cole. Cleared from quarantine.
MICROBIOLOGIST
Thank you. You two wait outside.
SCARFACE
He's got a history, Doctor. Violence.
COLE'S eyes return to the walls.
Headlines: "CLOCK TICKING! NO CURE YET!"
SCARFACE
Anti-social six -- doing 25 to life.
ENGINEER
I don't think he's going to hurt us. You're
not going to hurt us, are you Mr. Cole?
COLE'S head turns quickly to the ENGINEER.
COLE
No, sir.
The GUARDS exchange a look, shrug, exit, closing the door.
MICROBIOLOGIST
Why don't you sit down, Mr. Cole.
COLE goes to the empty chair at the conference table, sits down.
ASTROPHYSICIST
We want you to tell us about last
night.
COLE
I went to the surface and I collected
specimens like I was told.
The SCIENTISTS don't say anything. They just study him carefully.
COLE
(worried)
I mashed the spider, didn't I?
MICROBIOLOGIST
We'll get to the spider later, Mr.
Cole. Right now, we want to know
everything that you saw.
INT. ENGINEERING OFFICE - AN HOUR LATER (ETERNAL NIGHT)
COLE, starting to look very tired now, stands at the blackboard
sketching a detailed map of exactly where he was last night.
ASTPOPHYSICIST
Where you collected sample #4, what
street was that?
COLE
Uh...
BOTANIST
It's important to observe everything.
COLE
I think it was...I'm sure it was 2nd Street.
As the SCIENTISTS start to whisper animatedly among themselves,
COLE'S eyes drift across the newspaper clippings taped to the
wall. One headline screams, "VIRUS MUTATING!" Another features
a photo of an OLD MAN (DR. MASON, who we'll see again later on)
and the words, SCIENTIST SAYS, "IT'S TOO LATE FOR CURE".
ASTROPHYSICIST'S VOICE (o.s.)
Close your eyes, Cole.
Startled, COLE closes his eyes obediently.
BLACKNESS. Like COLE, WE SEE NOTHING. But we HEAR their VOICES.
ENGINEER'S VOICE (o.s.)
Tell us in detail what you've seen in
this room.
COLE'S VOICE (o.s.)
Uh, in this room? Uh...
MICROBIOLOGIST'S VOICE (o.s.)
How many of us are there?
COLE'S VOICE (o.s.)
Six...seven, if you count me.
ASTROPHYSICIST'S VOICE (o.s.)
Tell us about the pictures on the wall...
COLE'S VOICE (o.s.)
Uh, you mean the newspapers?
A MONTAGE OF OVERLAPPING VOICES (o.s.)
Tell us about the newspapers. Can you
hear my voice? What do I look like?
What does he look like, the man who
just spoke? How old were you when you
left the surface?
The VOICES blur into a cacophony and FADE INTO the droning P.A.
SYSTEM at the airport.
INT. CONCOURSE/AIRPORT - DAY
THE DREAM AGAIN! But at an earlier moment. YOUNG COLE, flanked
by his PARENTS, whose faces are out of view, is watching a PLANE
land through one of the big glass windows that lines the concourse
leading to the departure gates.
P.A. SYSTEM (o.s.)
Flight 784 now boarding at gate...
Suddenly, a SHOUT, followed by raised VOICES, interrupts the
monotonous airport routine. As YOUNG COLE and his PARENTS turn
to see what's going on, a man we'll call MR. PONYTAIL, his face
averted, hurries past them, bumping YOUNG COLE with a Chicago
Hulls Sports Duffle Bag.
MR. PONYTAIL
WATCH IT!
YOUNG COLE sees little more than the gaudy pants, the duffle, and
the man's ponytail flopping as he rushes towards the gates.
Just then, a WOMAN'S VOICE cries out, "NOOOOOOOOO!"
YOUNG COLE turns back toward the Security Check Point just as
TRAVELERS scatter madly, some diving to the floor, others
running. A TERRIFIED TRAVELER, hitting the floor close by, looks
up at YOUNG COLE with panicky eyes, and asks....
TERRIFIED TRAVELER
Just exactly why did you volunteer?
INT. ENGINEERING OFFICE/FUTURE WORLD - (ETERNAL NIGHT)
COLE comes abruptly awake. Seated now, he's facing the SCIENTISTS.
ASTROPHYSICIST
Wake up, Cole.
COLE
Uh, I didn't hear the...
MICROBIOLOGIST
(tapping a pencil on the table)
I asked you, why did you volunteer?
COLE
Well, the guard woke me up. He told me
I volunteered.
The SCIENTISTS react, whispering urgently among themselves.
COLE starts to nod off again, then comes awake with a start as
the ENGINEER speaks to him.
ENGINEER
We appreciate you volunteering. You're
a very good observer, Cole.
COLE
Uh, thank you.
ENGINEER
You'll get a reduction in sentence.
COLE keeps his face impassive.
ASTROPHYSICIST
To be determined by the proper authorities.
ENGINEER
You don't want to jeopardize that reduction,
do you, Cole? Have it taken away?
COLE
No, sir!
ASTROPHYSICIST
We have a very advanced program, something
very different, requires very skilled people.
MICROBIOLOGIST
An opportunity to reduce your sentence
considerably...
ZOOLOGIST
And possibly play an important role in
returning the human race to the surface
of the earth.
ENGINEER
We want tough minded people. Strong
mentally. We've had some...misfortunes
with "unstable" types.
ASTROPHYSICIST
For a man in your position...an opportunity.
BOTANIST
Not to volunteer could be a real mistake.
MICROBIOLOGIST
(tapping his pencil again)
Definitely a mistake!
COLE gives away nothing. He's in a box here. He has no choices.
He stares at the tapping pencil.
INT. ART GALLERY - NIGHT
A strikingly "real" world of bright colors. Extravagant paintings
adorn the walls. A POET, tiny and ruddy faced, squints over his
glasses as he reads in a booming voice to an AUDIENCE of thirty
seated on folding chairs.
POET
Still among the myriad microwaves, the
infra-red messages, the gigabytes of ones
and zeroes, we find words, infinitesimally
small, byte-sized now, tinier even than
science lurking in some vague electricity
where, if we listen we can hear the solitary
voice of that poet telling us,
"We are no other than a moving row
Of Magic shadow-shapes that come and go
Round with the Sun-illumined Lantern hold
In Midnight by the Master of the show."
As the POET reads, we STUDY the audience, mostly YUPPIE CULTURE
JUNKIES or BOHEMIANS. Among them, a light-haired woman of twenty-
eight, soberly dressed, wearing glasses. She's KATHRYN RAILLY. And
it's her beeper that suddenly BEEPS. BEEP! BEEP!
POET'S VOICE (o.s.)
"The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all your Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it."
BEEP! BEEP! Scowling at the outrageous interruption, the POET
looks up from the text just as RAILLY, tumbling, shuts off the
beeper and rises, embarrassed. As she makes her way to an exit,
the glaring POET continues...
POET
"Yesterday This Day's Madness did prepare;
Tomorrow's Silence, Triumph or Despair:
Drink! for you know not whence you came, nor why:
Drink! for you know not why you go, nor where."
INT. CORRIDOR/POLICE STATION - NIGHT
DETECTIVE FRANKI leads RAILLY past crowded holding cells.
FRANKI
-- so they get there and they ask the guy
real nice for some kind of i.d., and he gets
agitated, starts screaming about viruses.
Totally irrational, totally disoriented,
doesn't know where he is, what day it is,
alla that stuff. All they got was his
name. They figure he's stoned out of
his mind, it's some kinda psychotic
episode, so they're gonna bring him...
RAILLY
He's been tested for drugs?
FRANKI
Negative for drugs. But he took on
five cops like he was dusted to the
eyeballs. No drugs. You believe that?
FRANKI pauses, indicating a tiny observation window of thick meshed
glass in an otherwise solid door, and RAILLY looks through it.
RAILLY'S POV THROUGH THE WINDOW: a MAN, his back to her, in
strait-jacket and prison denims, examining the wall of the padded
cell with the distorted intensity of a "mental case".
RAILLY
You have him in restraints.
FRANKI
Were you listening? We got two officers in
the hospital. Yeah, he's in restraints, plus
the medic gave him enough stellazine to kill
a horse. Look at him! Still on his feet.
RAILLY'S POV THROUGH THE WINDOW: the MAN in the cell turns, looks
right at her. In spite of the cuts and welts, it's clearly COLE.
RAILLY
That would explain the bruises, I
guess. The struggle.
FRANKI
You want to go in? Examine him?
RAILLY
Yes, please. You said he gave a name...
FRANKI
(unlocking the door)
James Cole. That's everything we got. None
of the James Coles on the computer match him.
No license, no prints, no warrants. Nothing.
You want me to go in with you?
RAILLY
(entering)
No, thank you.
FRANKI
I'll be right here...just in case.
INT. ISOLATION CELL
COLE stares at RAILLY. The environment is intensely real...vivid
colors...each sound, however slight, very distinct, almost loud...
and yet she appears to him almost like a vision.
RAILLY
Mr. Cole? My name is Doctor Railly.
I'm a psychiatrist. I work for the
County -- I don't work for the police.
My only concern is your well being --
do you understand that?
COLE
I need to go now.
RAILLY
I'm going to be completely honest. I'm
not going to lie to you. I can't make
the police let you go...but I do want
to help you. And I want you to trust
me. Can you do that, James? May I
call you "James"?
COLE
"James"! Nobody ever calls me that.
RAILLY
(frowns, studies him)
Have you been a patient at County?
Have I seen you someplace?
COLE
No, not possible. Listen, I have to
get out of here. I'm supposed to be
getting information.
RAILLY
What kind of information?
COLE
It won't help you. You can't do anything
about it. You can't change anything.
RAILLY
Change what?
COLE
I need to go.
RAILLY
Do you know why you're here, James.
COLE
Because I'm a good observer. Because I
have a tough mind.
RAILLY
I see. You don't remember assaulting a
police officer...several officers?
COLE
They wanted identification. I don't have
any identification. I wasn't trying to
hurt them.
RAILLY
You don't have a driver's license,
James? Or a Social Security card?
COLE
No.
RAILLY
Why not? Most people have some ID.
COLE
You wouldn't understand.
RAILLY
You've been in an institution, haven't
you, James? A hospital?
COLE
I have to go.
RAILLY
A jail? Prison?
COLE
Underground.
RAILLY
Hiding?
COLE
I love this air. This is wonderful air.
RAILLY
What's wonderful about the air, James?
COLE
It's so clean. No germs.
RAILLY
You're afraid of germs?
COLE
I have to go.
RAILLY
Why do you think there aren't any germs
in the air, James?
COLE
This is April, right?
RAILLY
July.
COLE
(sudden panic)
July?!
RAILLY
Do you know what year it is?
COLE
What year is it?
RAILLY
What year do you think it is?
COLE
1995?
RAILLY
You think it's July of 1995? That's
the future, James. Do you think you're
living in the future?
COLE
(slightly confused)
No, 1995 is the past.
RAILLY
1995 is the future, James. This is 1989.
COLE looks stunned.
INT. POLICE STATION CORRIDOR - MORNING
COLE, bound tightly by the strait-jacket, heavy manacles on his
ankles, is being escorted down the corridor by two surly POLICEMEN.
COLE
Where are you taking me?
POLICEMAN #1
South of France, buddy. Fancy hotel.
You're gonna love it.
COLE
South of France?! I don't want to go
to the South of France. I want to make
a telephone call.
POLICEMAN #2 smirks as he unlocks a heavy steel door.
POLICEMAN #2
Zip it, scumbag -- you fooled the shrink
with your act, but you don't fool us.
Then, POLICEMAN #2 swings the steel door open and sunlight
overwhelms COLE, blinding him in a dazzling fury of white light.
EXT. CITY STREET/MINI-VAN - DAY
A Mini-van, the kind of vehicle used to transport a half dozen
prisoners, crawls through a busy street. The Police Department
logo is prominent on the side of the van beneath barred windows.
INT. COUNTY HOSPITAL/SHOWERS - AN HOUR LATER (MORNING)
Fierce spray recalls the decontamination in the future. COLE
stands stark naked under the shower while two muscular attendants,
PALMER and BILLINGS, supervise.
As PALMER shuts off the water, BILLINGS hands COLE a towel and
starts inspecting his scalp...
BILLINGS
Lemme see your head, Jimbo, see if you
got any creepy crawlies.
COLE
I need to make a telephone call.
BILLINGS
(pulling Cole's head)
Gotta work that out with a doctor, Jimbo.
Can't make no calls 'til the doctor says.
COLE
It's very important.
BILLINGS
What chew gotta do, Jimbo, is take it
easy, relax into things. We all gonna
get along fine if you just relax.
COLE gets the hint of menace in the message and submits to the
lice inspection, only his eyes revealing his frustration.
INT. HOSPITAL/DAYROOM - HALF AN HOUR LATER (DAY)
COLE stands in the doorway, stunned by his first sight of the
large room. His eyes go to the heavily-grilled windows where
light pours in from outside. Then, to the TV, where a CARTOON
COMMERCIAL makes raucous noises.
PATIENTS, in K-Mart street clothes or ratty robes, stare gloomily
at the TV, or play cards, pace, or just stare blankly.
BILLINGS is at COLE'S side, beckoning to a patient, JEFFREY MASON,
a twenty year old white youth dressed in khakis and a plaid shirt.
BILLINGS
Jeffrey. Yo! Jeffrey. This here is James.
Whyncha show James around? Tell him the TV
rules, show him the games an' stuff, okay?
JEFFREY
(with a sly look)
How much you gonna pay me? Huh? I'd
be doing your job.
BILLINGS
Five thousand dollars, my man. That
enough? I'll wire it to your account
as usual, okay?
JEFFREY
Okay, Billings. Five thousand. That's
enough. Five thousand dollars. I'll
give him the Deluxe Mental Hospital Tour.
As BILLINGS walks away chuckling, JEFFREY turns to COLE.
JEFFREY
Kid around, kid around. It makes them feel
good, we're all pals. We're prisoners, they're
the guards, but it's all in good fun, you see?
COLE nods and JEFFREY indicates card tables where PATIENTS are
playing cards, checkers, chess, or working on jig saw puzzles.
JEFFREY
Here's the games. Games vegitize you.
If you play the games, you're
voluntarily taking a tranquilizer.
COLE sees a partially completed puzzle of the well-known painting,
THE PEACEABLE KINGDOM, depicting a serene world of animals in harmony.
JEFFREY
What'd they give you? Thorazine? How
much? Learn your drugs -- know your doses.
COLE
I need to make a telephone call.
JEFFREY
A telephone call? That's communication
with the outside world! Doctor's
discretion. Hey, if alla these nuts
could just make phone calls, it could
spread. Insanity oozing through telephone
cables, oozing into the ears of all those
poor sane people, infecting them! Whackos
everywhere! A plague of madness.
(suddenly sly and confidential)
In fact, very few of us here are actually
mentally ill. I'm not saying you're
not mentally ill, for all I know you're
crazy as a loon. But that's not why
you're here. Why you're here is because
of the system, because of the economy.
(indicating the TV)
There's the TV. It's all right there.
Commercials. We are not productive
anymore, they don't need us to make
things anymore, it's all automated. What
are we for then? We're consumers. Okay,
buy a lot of stuff, you're a good citizen.
But if you don't buy a lot of stuff, you
know what? You're mentally ill! That's
a fact! If you don't buy things...toilet
paper, new cars, computerized blenders,
electrically operated sexual devices...
(getting hysterical)
SCREWDRIVERS WITH MINIATURE BUILT-IN
RADAR DEVICES, STEREO SYSTEMS WITH
BRAIN IMPLANTED HEADPHONES, VOICE-
ACTIVATED COMPUTERS, AND...
A woman orderly, TERRY, turns from the feeble PATIENT she's helping.
TERRY
Take it easy, Jeffrey. Be calm.
Abruptly, JEFFREY stifles his hysteria, takes a deep breath and
continues, completely calm now. But COLE isn't listening. He's
mesmerized by the TV.
JEFFREY
So if you want to watch a particular
program, say "All My Children" or
something, you go to the Charge Nurse
and tell her what day and time the show
you want to see is on. But you have to
tell her before the show is scheduled
to be on. There was this one guy who
was always requesting shows that had already
played. He couldn't quite grasp the
idea that the Charge Nurse couldn't
just make it be yesterday for him, turn
back time ha ha. What a fruitcake!!
This last thought actually penetrates COLE'S focus on the TV and
he turns to JEFFREY who's picking up speed again.
JEFFREY
Seriously, more and more people are
being defined now as mentally ill. Why?
Because they're not consuming on their
own. But as patients, they becone
consumers of mental health care. And
this gives the so-called sane people work!
(hysteria again)
WHOOO! SHOCK THERAPY! GROUP THERAPY!
HALLUCINATIONS! THERAPEUTIC DRUGS!
IGGIDY DIGGIDY DIG! PERFECT! THE
SYSTEM IN HARMONY LIKE A BIG MACHINE...
TERRY
Okay, that's it, Jeffrey, you're gonna
get a shot. I warned you...
JEFFREY
(calming himself, smiling)
Right! Right! Carried away, heh heh.
I got "carried away". Explaining the
workings of...the institution.
Just then, TJ WASHINGTON, a somber-looking African American in a
bathrobe, taps COLE on the shoulder.
TJ WASHINGTON
I don't really come from outer space.
JEFFREY
This is TJ Washington, Jim -- he
doesn't really come from outer space.
TJ WASHINGTON
Don't mock me, my friend.
(to Cole)
It's a condition of "mental divergence".
I find myself on another planet, Ogo,
part of an intellectual elite, preparing
to subjugate barbarian hordes on Pluto.
But even though it's a totally convincing
reality in every way...I can feel, breathe,
hear...nevertheless, Ogo is actually a
construct of my psyche. I am mentally
divergent in that I am escaping certain
unnamed realities that plague my life
here. When I stop going there, I will
be well. Are you also divergent, friend?
The P.A. SYSTEM interrupts, startling COLE.
P.A. SYSTEM (v.o.)
James Cole. Report to Staff. James Cole!
JEFFREY
Staff! Whoo! Time for Staff. Now the
geniuses cure you. Hallelujah!
INT. PSYCH WARD CONFERENCE ROOM - MINUTES LATER (DAY)